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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27715028">just one more chapter</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azaphod/pseuds/Azaphod'>Azaphod</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Asexual Character, Coming Untouched, Do Not Archive (The Magnus Archives), Grinding, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Trans Male Character, ace subtype: Horny</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:48:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,115</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27715028</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azaphod/pseuds/Azaphod</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>At some point Jon had wandered over and joined him, bullying his way into Martin’s space until they entangled in a sprawl of limbs that <em>might </em>have been comfortable if Jon could quit <em>fidgeting</em>.</p><p>--</p><p>Martin is trying to read, and Jon just can't sit still.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>330</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>just one more chapter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>disclaimer i am 1) trans + ace, and while jon's asexuality isn't brought up in the fic, he is still an asexual person. 2) jon's parts are referred to as; cunt and chest</p><p>this is also my first time posting smut so !  i'm working on a part two as well :)c</p><p>(you can find my nsfw twitter @jackeringly (18+ only for obvious reasons) and im also on tumblr @godshaper)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Martin is reading. </p><p>It’s not a book he would ever pick, but here in the cabin the choices are limited at best, and Daisy seemed to have had a taste for gaudy dramas so wrapped up in shock factor that they lost any form of cohesive plot less then half way through. Though curling up on the aged couch with one of the many paperbacks with a cup of tea is a nice enough way to spend an evening. </p><p>After...well, after everything, this sort of peace feels like a luxury. </p><p>At some point Jon had wandered over and joined him, bullying his way into Martin’s space until they entangled in a sprawl of limbs that <em>might </em>have been comfortable if Jon could quit <em>fidgeting</em>.</p><p>This restlessness has dogged him all day, from pacing the kitchen all morning to impatiently drumming his fingers against the table as he finally sat still enough to eat, and then to now, while he bumps into Martin's book again in his quest to get situated. </p><p>Martin weathers it all with a glacial patience. He curls his fingers through the wispy little hairs at the base of Jon's neck, tugging and caressing in mindless patterns, half his attention still turned to the book balanced precariously in his other hand. And that calms him for a moment; Jon hums a contented noise deep in his chest, melting further into Martin's side. </p><p>But it's not long before he tenses, jerking his body into yet another position, and jostling Martin's attempts to continue reading. While his book might be quite boring so far, he'd still like to try and finish this chapter before he gives up for the day. </p><p>Martin sighs, winding his hand higher into Jon’s hair.</p><p>"Behave," he warns, and gives a less then kind tug. </p><p>Jon jerks. Then he gasps; a tiny thing, almost inaudible had he not been so close. </p><p>"Sorry," he manages to mumble, belatedly.</p><p>Martin resumes his gentle ministrations after a curious pause, but he does shift his attention fully to the man beside him; taking in the heavy rise of his chest, the flush to his skin, the way he shifts his legs together. Pieces slot into place, and he continues his meandering touches with more deliberate intent, trailing up and down Jon's neck and into the thicket of his curls, listening to Jon’s breathing quicken whenever he pulls. </p><p>Jon wiggles as if to get more comfortable, rocking closer to Martin in an aborted movement that is adorably obvious now that he’s paying attention, but Martin says nothing. Jon huffs, clearly frustrated by his lack of initiative. </p><p>He winds himself up a few more times--body twitching for <em>something</em>, but never quite having the courage to take it--before Martin deliberately stretches out his leg until it bumps in between Jon’s, hitching dangerously high. He keeps his book up and his eyes focused, though he hasn’t turned a page in about five minutes and Jon has surely noticed. </p><p>Jon’s fingers flex, tightening on the edge of Martin’s t-shirt. Cool fingertips riding under the hem to skim soft skin, drawing shivering goosebumps. His breathing hitches as he tentatively hooks his ankle around Martin’s calf and draws himself even closer, until they’re flush, with Jon practically straddling him. </p><p>He still looks at Martin, gaze curious, seeking for permission. Martin grants it with an absentminded kiss to his brow, an encouraging tug closer.</p><p>Then, hips moving, rocking and slow and almost unnoticeable. Martin turns a page and doesn’t read anything at all as Jon slowly grinds down against him. </p><p>He watches from the corner of his eye, because it’s a game now, and his partial attention is getting Jon riled up much more then anything else from the unabashed movements of his hips, the way he ruts into the swell of Martin’s thigh, his thin sweats growing damp. Jon has his face half hidden, lip caught between his teeth and Martin wants to <em>ruin </em>this man. </p><p>There will be time for that. For now, he holds his book in one hand, and uses the other to crawl up the back of Jon’s shirt, skating the plains of his back, dancing over his tensed muscles before travelling down his front. </p><p>He isn’t wearing a binder today, which is a lovely treat. Martin lets his hands wander idly, lazily palming at Jon’s chest, squeezing or pinching just to hear Jon stifle a sound and melt further into his side, burying his face into Martin’s neck, where he peppers sweet, distracted kisses to the skin. </p><p>It’s all rather sweet of him, Martin thinks, sweeping his thumb against the knobby lines of Jon’s ribs. He cants his leg just a little, changing the angle of Jon’s thrusts and reveling in the instantaneous breathy whine he is rewarded with. </p><p>The softly pressed kisses turn sharp, a scrape of Jon’s teeth and then his tongue following to soothe. Martin shivers, unable to help the little sigh of pleasure that spills from him. He feels Jon smile in response against his neck and the subsequent redoubling of his efforts, biting and teasing. </p><p>Martin seizes him by the back of his head, anchoring himself a handful of hair and pulling. “Jon, I’m trying to read,” he says, with just a hint of disappointment in his tone. Jon screws up his eyes at the pain, a punched out breath leaving his chest. “if you continue to be so distracting I’ll have to stop, is that what you want?”</p><p>His voice is soft, but there’s no mistaking the threat hidden beneath the careful words. He can feel Jon struggle with it for a moment, indignant no doubt, that Martin is allowed to touch however he pleases while he is not. But his desire wins out, and he shakes his head as well as he can, caught as he is by Martin’s hand. </p><p>Martin nods, pleased, and releases him all at once, barely paying any mind as Jon wobbles, trying to right his balance. </p><p>Martin sweeps his hand across Jon’s cheek, his touch little more then a caress that Jon shivers into. He thumbs gently over his parted lips, taking in his blown pupils with feigned disinterest. </p><p>“If you need something to occupy your mouth with, you could have asked.” Martin says, and slides two of his fingers past Jon’s lips. </p><p>Jon chokes at first at the sudden intrusion, eyes tearing up as he swallows reflexively. A moan reverberates in his throat, and Martin can feel it all the way down his wrist. He turns his gaze back to his book and reads a nonsensical line about the heroine speaking to some nameless, handsome rogue while Jon drools happily, laving his tongue along the pads of his fingers.</p><p>For a while time slides onward, punctuated by the occasional muffled moan or the dry sound of paper flipping. The sun catches the slight sheen to Jon’s skin, turning him ethereal. It could almost be sweet, were it not for the obscene noises Jon makes as Martin absently fucks his mouth, his chin a mess of drool, tear tracks shining against his skin. </p><p>He looks beautiful like this, Martin thinks, overwhelmed and desperate.</p><p>He thinks about escalating things, wiggling his wet fingers down Jon’s sweats and getting a proper feel of the slick mess between the two of them, working Jon up to a fever pitch riding his fingers. But the slow, gradual climb is nice, the heavy weight of Jon against him, the languid haze of it burning hotter and hotter.</p><p>Jon gasps loudly around his fingers, his breath hot as he swallows. His hands twitch where they clutch at Martin’s sides, pulling and clenching in the same off kilter rhythm as his hips; quick, chasing his release as he works to drag Martin somehow even closer, as if they might meld together. </p><p>Martin presses down on his tongue, flicking another page only to find he's reached the end of his chapter.</p><p>His breathing stutters into an even faster pace, as Martin places his book down on the table beside them--not even bothering to mark his place. Then he pulls his fingers from Jon’s mouth with a frankly obscene sound, and takes Jon’s waist in his hands, bringing him to a total stop. </p><p>The sound Jon makes in response is little more then a wail, wounded and denied, and utterly satisfying. </p><p>“M<em>m-Ma</em>rtin,” Jon tries to growl, but it comes out as a hoarse whine. </p><p>Martin smiles adoringly at him, “Did you need something, love?”</p><p>He tries to buck under Martin’s grip, but Martin holds tight. His next noise is one of total frustration. </p><p>“Please, I-I was so close, please,” Jon begs.</p><p>“Of course, dear. Just tell me what you need.” Martin says, pulling him back down so his cunt is once again flush with his thigh, all pressure and no friction. </p><p>Jon’s skin blushes impossibly darker under his hands, and he lets out a humiliated whine that sparks something deep in Martin’s chest, suffusing bright burning arousal throughout him, egging him on.  </p><p>"<em>Jooon</em>," Martin croons as he takes a note out of Jon's book and leans in to kiss the exposed column of Jon's throat, then he bites down, holding him still as the man writhes. When he pulls away his lips are spread in a smug grin. "Do you need me to ask you?"</p><p>A strangled noise leaves Jon, his hands scrambling for a hold in Martin’s shirt. His legs clamp tight around Martin’s thigh, shaking. </p><p>"Would you like my mouth? Would you let me make a mess of you or would I have to hold you down, tie you up so you can’t squirm?" Martin asks, low, against the shell of Jon's ear. "Or would you like my fingers? I could stretch you open until you could take my cock, or my fist, if you'd like. You would look so lovely, so good for me, wouldn’t you, Jon?"  </p><p>Jon goes rigid, then a whimper escapes him as he quakes, his hips spasming as they try their hardest to grind down. A full body shiver wracks through him, and Martin loosens his ironclad grip in delighted surprise as Jon shudders apart from his words alone. Jon seizes his lapse in control and shamelessly rocks into him, a relieved groan working its way through him as he rides out the last of his orgasm before slumping forward. </p><p>Martin pets up and down his back, still reeling and simmering in his own arousal, but he puts it aside for now, cooing words of praise into Jon's sweaty hairline. </p><p>Eventually, Jon tips his head back to look at Martin, satisfaction and mortification waging a war across his face, before he ducks back to hide in the crook of Martin's shoulder. </p><p>Martin laughs, hugging him close. "Alright, love?" </p><p>"Mm," Jon says, "I, ah, wasn't expecting that to have such a strong effect." </p><p>"Well that makes two of us." Martin giggles, and Jon continues to mutter grumpily into his skin. "I liked it! It was hot." </p><p>"I'm glad my embarrassment turns you on."</p><p>"Well-" Martin chokes, because isn't <em>that</em> a whole shiny new concept that he didn’t know hit so close to home. Jon pulls back again to raise an eyebrow at him. </p><p>"Really?" Jon grins, still a little dazed around the edges, but full of delighted teasing.</p><p>“I mean, a bit, maybe.” Martin admits, “You paint a very pretty picture like that.”</p><p>“Good to know.” Jon says, though it’s skeptical, which doesn’t surprise Martin at all. “Can I do anything for you?” Jon adds, giving him a little once over. “Oh, I may have ruined your trousers...” </p><p>Martin glances down and snorts, but he does consider the offer for a moment. Ultimately, he shakes his head. “Maybe later, if you’re up for it. Could I hold you now, though?”</p><p>Jon practically beams at that, a radiant smile breaking across his face. “Of course.” </p><p>It takes a little coordination to get settled, which Martin finds endlessly ironic. He rids himself of his stained trousers and helps Jon wiggle out of his now ruined sweats and wraps the both of them in a spare blanket. Jon sighs contentedly as he curls up between the cushions and Martin, finally unmoving and relaxed. </p><p>The silence is warm, and Martin almost feels like he could drift off. </p><p>Jon lifts his head slightly, "So, how much of that are you going to have to reread?"</p><p>“Oh you cheeky little--” Martin exclaims, jabbing him in the side and earning himself a shriek of laughter, so he keeps doing it, until they’re both breathless and their cheeks are strained from smiling, kissing in the low light of the safehouse. </p>
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